Sentimental
by traylover23
Summary: He revs up the engine on the motorbike, the purr of the horsepower sent pleasureable chills down his spine. He closes eyes at the countdown reaches the end. The teen snapped his eyes open with deterimination as the checkered flag wavered down. This is the story of how Lightning McQueen came to be.


**Sentimental**

**One-Shot**

**By: traylover23**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing . . .**

**Warning: Light mentions of child abuse or beating of a minor. Lightning/Owen does have dyslexia. And OC's do appear multiple times. Lightning x Sally**

* * *

_'You can never make it . . .'_

_'You're just a disgrace . . .'_

Little four year old Owen McQueen sat in his toy mustang, driving circles in his gravel driveway. The constant ride was bumpy and something threw off his balance, but of course; he didn't care. He loved every second of it. The big grin on his face never left the entire ride; until the motor of a worn down van creeked onto the rocky road.

Cringing at the loud sound the vehicle made, the youth jumped out of his toy and dashed inside, slamming the door on the way in. Which earned him a parental scold from his mother. The next to entire said door was a stumbly man who swished around the vodka in his hands, before yelling at his wife to make him dinner faster, before passing out onto the couch.

Later that night, he hides in his late at night, he holds his baby sister in her crib as the shouts of his parents grow louder and louder each passing second. Running a hand over the scar his father gave him when he once desperately tried to break up one of their earlier arguements. Holding his head high, Owen leans down to kiss his younger sibling then whispers, "I'll always protect you, Holley . . ."

The toodlers lessened her soft cries before looking into her big brothers baby blue eyes with her own jade eyes, before giving a half gummy/half toothy grin that took away his tears. Cuddling closer together, they fell sleep.

During the night, he brushes over the oddly formed tattoo that reminded him of a lightning bolt, putting a frown on his face.

7 year old Owen McQueen was playing with his baby sister Holley, who was 5; and baby twin brothers, Aaron and James, who were two and a half. Holley's, Aaron's, and James' english accent mixed perfectly in with his american tounge; which echoed throughout his bedroom softly. A few passing minutes later, he stands back and watches over them protectively as they giggle over a kiddy show, one (he still does, even though he doesn't like to admit it) giggle over any more, he's a big boy!

And as a big boy, and big brother, he protects. Especially his younger siblings. Grabbing his precious racecars; he makes an engine noise before sitting at the foot of his bed, in front of the television. The sounds of England as background noise, before unconsiously frowns as he rubs his scar; he shivers, remember the crash of the beer bottle and the blood. Shaking the thoughts off, he grins at Holley before pouncing onto her, fingers dancing on her.

His twin brothers about busted a gut looking at them.

The siblings play around longer before that smile as a picture, the camera flashes, keeping the image forever.

10 year old Owen glares at his English homework. He curls his fingers around the silver and green mechanical pencil, and then passes a pale hand through his rough blond hair. The way the letters flipped, like M and W's or S and Z's; makes him confused and drives him insane. And of course, this was another reason to be scolded by his father.

Placing his elbows on the desk, he groans at the shouts coming from downstairs before turning in response of feeling a small pair of hands on his back. Turning around, he sees his baby sister; jade eyes glossy with a red runny nose, playing his her raven hair. is twin brothers hug their teddy bears while their green eyes before shaking the blond hair out of their eyes. And the youngest baby girl with black hair and ice blue eyes cries softly; feeling his heart go soft, he leaves his homework and hops in the hall closet, before scooping them up into a group hug.

Softly shushing them, they all fall asleep on Owen as he lays on the floor, hand draped over his chest and left elbow, right above the lightning bolt . . .

14 year old Owen grins happily. Today was his 14th birthday and got his first motorbike from his parents, since he couldn't drive a car yet. (Truthfully, it was more of his mother than his father, he just didn't wanna get a smack.) 12 year old Holley kissed his cheek before rubbing his forearm, causing his grin to quiver as she accidently brushes over the scar that still haunts him. He rubs his blond eyebrows, the skin on his forehand and left hand littered with faint scars, and afterwards traces the scar thats sketched through said eyebrow.

Owen still manages a happy grin. Kneeling down with Holley, he scoops up Aaron, James, Holley, and the youngest, Amelia; into a big family hug and smiles, rubbing the hair on top of the twins as they protested.

He didn't even hear a happy birthday from his dad, just a new scar. He just didn't understand.

"Owen!" his father shouted. The fifteen year old kept scrubbing the dirty, while tile floor and answers back.

"Yes father?"

"Ya know," his slurred speech begans, his thick English accent making him harder to understand, "just because we came back to move into the damned USA because of your mum," he gags, as if the letters and words poisoned him, "doesn't mean you need to act like a stupid boy from here. You lived in England from age 3 to age 14, act like you got some sense."

Slamming the dark tan skin down, the elder man walks over to the sink, picking up a skillet. Owen slowly stands up before turning to the manialla folder filled with his school grades.

"You're such a disappointment, such a disgrace." Owen narrows his eyes as he turns around and snaps at his father.

_"I'm am not a disgrace!"_

The black, iron skillet connected with his cheek and temple as he falls down like a rock. For Owen, all he can see is a blurred picture of his father screaming at him. After a few seconds, and the world stops spinning; the boy grips his head as a splitting headache appears, and his father screaming isn't helping.

The older man shoves the white paper into his face.

"See! You can't do shit in English! All because you're a little different. You're just a disgrace! Damnit Owen, man up and deal with your learning problem!" Pushing his child down, he spits on him before slamming the kitchen door shut.

Holley rushes in to see her big brother on the floor. Tears spring to her eyes as she see him drifting in and out of consiousness. Placing a wrap around his head, he smiles at her.

"I'll still protect you from him." He says, grabbing her head. Seconds later, he turns his head and drifts off.

He revved up the engine on the motorbike, the purr of the horsepower sent pleasureable chills down his spine. He closes his eyes slowly as the countdown came to an end. The seventeen year old teen snaps his eyes open as the checkered flag wavers down.

He grins with confidence as the shouts of his mother and siblings show support. He blasts off, doing every jump, turn, twist, hill, etc; with experience.

After all that, he wins the race first place, and he when he went into pit stop, Owen was received a sponsorship for the next racing season.

But all this had lead into a lecture from his father.

"You can never make it, you're too soft! You gotta love yourself, and do the game dirty, or don't do it at all." He shouts at his oldest.

"But can I still do it?" he pleads, begging for him to say yes.

"Hell no!" he protests, crossing his arms in an X in front of his chest before seperating them. He felt the world crash around him until he got a text from his mother.

_From Mum:_

_We're getting a divorce, you can still do it. Don't worry :-)_

3 weeks after his 18th birthday, he stares at his father's grave.

"Owen, what's gonna be your racing name?" Harv, his manager, asks him. Staring at his lightning bolt scar, the lightbulb goes off in his head.

"Lightning."

"What?" Harv gave him a questionable look between 'what-are-you-saying' and 'what-is-that-crazy-mumbling-about?'. Smiling big, he turns to his family and manager.

"I'm gonna be, Lightning McQueen."

"Stickers, you alright?" his wife of two years, Sally Carrera, comes up behinds up and wraps her linky arms around his waist, whispering the question in his ear.

Looking at his scar, out of the starry night, then at his wife, he opens up his mouth before he's interrupted. A loud baby cry is heard from the next room. The married couple turns to the doorframe. Lightning smiles before answering her question.

"Everything's perfect."

* * *

**Whew! That took . . . forever. It was on my phone for WEEKS before I finally got it down. But, I did(: well, as you can see, lol.**

**Hope you like this, I just haven't had the time and muse to write lately, so I think I'm a little rusty/:**

**Anyway, see you next time.**

**traylover23 has logged out**


End file.
